There's More Than One Kind of Insomnia
by Meatball42
Summary: Jack wakes up in the middle of the night to find that his newest, shyest employee is still there.


**Author's Note: I was gonna wait to post this, but I'm posting early cause my dad is the rockin'-est person in the world and he bought me seasons one AND two of Torchwood on DVD! The next chapter of Break the Silence should be out tomorrow (shameless plugging :) .**

[*]

Jack Harkness sighed, checking the time for the fifth time in ten minutes. He finally gave up, throwing off his covers and climbing the ladder to his office.

He'd sent the team home early, if nine at night could be considered early. Well, it was for his team, lately at least. A series of late-night Rift events had thoroughly messed up all their sleep cycles, and Owen, Tosh and Suzie had been grateful for the chance to get home at reasonable time. Jack had felt unusually tired around ten, and had decided to take advantage of this and see if he could sleep through to morning for a change. It was not to be. Two thirty am, and he couldn't sleep another minute. He made his way to the small break room near the entrance of the Archives where Ianto Jones, the newest member of the team, had made his last pot sometime around eight. Even microwaved Ianto-coffee was better than Jack's best freshly made brew.

When he approached the break room, he slowed down. The door was cracked open and the light was still on. Jack frowned. For all that Ianto had only been working at Torchwood for two weeks, Jack already knew he wasn't the sort of person to leave a light on when he went home. One of the others must have grabbed a last cup before they left and forgotten, he decided. He opened the door, then stopped.

Jack smiled, amusement mixed with confusion. Ianto Jones was asleep, his head pillowed on his arm, taking up the last remaining area on the small table that wasn't covered in piles of reports. A cold mug of coffee was in front of him and a pen was still clutched between the fingers of his right hand, as though he'd been using it when he fell asleep.

Had he fallen asleep while he was working? Jack wondered. He could have sworn he'd seen Ianto wide awake, collecting documents for filing from Tosh, not ten minutes before he'd announced the team could leave. He couldn't have fallen asleep that fast, could he?

Jack took a closer look at the coffee boy. There were noticeable bruises around his eyes, and the way his eyes were flickering wasn't the relaxed, calm movement of REM sleep. In fact, Ianto didn't look like he was resting. His shoulders were trembling slightly and the muscles of his face were tight. As Jack watched, he flinched and his jaw clenched.

Frowning now, Jack moved closer to the young man. Was he having a nightmare? Jack lightly clasped Ianto's shoulder so as to not startle him, increasing the pressure when it had no effect. "Ianto?" Jack called softly. He didn't respond, but shuddered in Jack's grasp. Jack repeated his name a bit louder and shook him lightly, and this time, there was a response.

Ianto jerked to consciousness with a gasp that could have rivaled Jack's coming-back-to-life breaths. The hand holding the pen flailed out, knocking over the mug, and Jack took a step back to avoid any other flying limbs.

"Dammit," Ianto swore, righting the coffee cup then reaching over the small table to the counter, where a pile of neatly folded dishtowels waited to be put away. He grabbed one and quickly mopped up the spill, carefully moving papers so they wouldn't be touched. When he'd cleaned all the cold coffee, he tossed the towel into the room's small sink and fell back into his chair. He let out a weary sigh, resting his elbows on the table and holding his face in his hands.

All this was done without noticing Jack.

The captain tilted his head, taking in the spectacle with amusement, he'd admit it, but mostly concern. He waited a few moments, then spoke quietly.

"You're not supposed to be here."

The sentence sparked another flurry of movement from Ianto, who jumped to his feet and spun around, looking at Jack with deer-in-the-headlights eyes. He froze for an instant before letting out a quiet gasp. "Sir! I- I didn't know you were there!" He glanced around the room hurriedly. "Would you like some coffee, sir? Please sit down, sir!" He grabbed the pile of folders that was resting on the only other chair in the room. Going to put the pile in the spot his head had previously occupied, he stopped, realizing the area as still sticky with coffee residue. He made an almost comical double-take between the folders in his hands and the table, then almost leaped around the table to put the files on the empty counter. He turned back to Jack, looking extremely nervous. "Was there something you needed me for, sir?" He asked anxiously.

Jack watched the proceedings with a bemused look. In any other circumstances he'd be chuckling at the rabbit-like display of his newest hire, but the obvious tension and discomfort of the young man had sucked any humor out of the situation. He shook his head. "Everything's fine, Ianto. Except you," he added, smiling to show the joke.

Ianto didn't seem to notice, instead looking even more nervous. "Did I do something wrong, sir?" Obviously running through his mind to answer his own question, he asked fretfully "The police didn't dig deeper into the cover-up for that blowfish attack, did they?" He started wringing his hands, winding himself up more.

Jack held up his hands to stop the flow of words. "No, you did a great job on that. Better than I could do, that's for sure," he grinned, trying to set the poor boy at ease. He was rewarded with a brief smile, but the young Welshman didn't seem to relax at all. "Ianto, sit down. You're making me tired just looking at you," he joked.

Ianto sat in the chair he'd been in previously, and Jack rested into the newly-cleared chair, inspecting his archivist. Ianto definitely noticed the scrutiny, eyes flickering between Jack and the piles of unfinished paperwork littering the table. After a minute of this, Jack sighed.

"Relax, Ianto. Nothing's wrong. I just wasn't expecting you to be here this late."

Ianto shot out his arm to let his sleeve fall back, and checked his watch. "I'm sorry, sir, I had no idea it was that late. I suppose I got lost in the work," he gestured to the files, looking at Jack like he expected to be chastised.

Jack nearly laughed at the puppy-dog look, but schooled his face. "I'm not mad. Just thought you might rather sleep in your bed than on the table." He grinned devilishly. "If you're having trouble finding a bed, you could always share mine," he winked.

Ianto smiled uncertainly. He still didn't seem sure yet how to respond to the captain's near-constant flirting and innuendos.

"I'm more worried about the nightmare."

The smile dropped away. "I'm sure I wouldn't know what you mean, sir."

Jack raised his eyebrows ironically. "I know a nightmare when I see one, Ianto. I've had a few myself. I'm not going to pry, but I'm here if you want to talk about it," he said honestly.

Ianto studied his face, then looked away. Jack made a point of not looking at him too hard, and waited patiently. Getting a sudden insight, he asked quietly "Was it Canary Wharf?"

Ianto bit his lip, then nodded silently.

Jack mentally sighed. Caught up in the excitement, then annoyance, then excitement again, of Ianto's appearance, it hadn't been until a few days into his hiring that Jack remembered: no one had walked out of Canary Wharf unscathed. Ianto had been walking across the Hub with a mug of tea for Tosh when Owen had entered through the cog wheel door, late as ever. The moment the sirens went off, Ianto had flinched violently, dropping the mug, which shattered on the floor. The young man had muttered apologies to Tosh and ignored Owen's laughter, not meeting any of their eyes. Jack, watching from his office, could've smacked himself on the forehead for not considering it.

"I can't sleep," Ianto whispered, not looking toward the captain.

Jack considered this. He'd though Ianto had made incredible progress on the Archives, especially for only being there for two weeks, but it seemed he'd discovered the secret. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember any time in the last week when he'd seen Ianto leaving on time.

"Have you been staying at work overnight?"

Now Ianto did look at him, to find out in what spirit the question was asked. When he didn't see any anger on his boss's face, he answered. "Working tires me out. Lets me fall asleep without dreaming."

Jack nodded. It was a tactic he'd used himself. "I don't have a problem with that, but wouldn't you rather be at home? You can bring paperwork home, just no artifacts," he warned. "Or we could get Owen to give you some sleeping pills."

Ianto made a face. "The gave me some pills, after…" He made a sort of swirling motion with his hand, and Jack nodded in understanding. "They didn't let me think. And I prefer to stay here, my flat's too…" He shook his head.

Jack's brow furrowed inquisitively. "Too what?"

"It's too empty, too quiet." Ianto admitted. He looked away again, biting his lip. Jack waited. "There's no one there," he whispered.

'_Girlfriend: Lisa Hallet.' 'Deceased.' 'I'm sorry.'_

Another thing he should have considered. The boy seemed so polished, so controlled and calm, that he seemed to deflect any worries Jack had for him like the sun off deep water. And just like the water, that meant there was cold under the surface.

Making a snap decision, he sat forward in the chair and took Ianto's hand. "I'm sorry," he said seriously. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll probably be here. I live under my office."

Ianto looked startled when Jack touched him, then looked questioningly at him when he said the last words. "Seriously," Jack clarified. "I have a few rooms under my office. You could come see, if you like," he grinned, intoning the words flirtatiously.

Ianto smiled, and took his hand back. "I think that's harassment, sir," he quipped.

Jack sighed in dramatic rejection, and stood up. "I mean it, Ianto," he said sincerely.

The younger man nodded. "Thank you Jack."

Jack smiled, relishing in the first time he heard those lilting vowels caress his name. In his typical boundary-pushing way, he stepped forward and brushed his hand over Ianto's hair and pressed a kiss to his brow. "See you tomorrow."

The Welshman looked a bit sunned, and nodded absently in response. Jack smiled and left the room. He needed to find a rooftop on which to ponder Jones, Ianto Jones.


End file.
